


Grow Up: A Prequel to "Fall in Love"

by an_artsy_lexus



Series: Grow Up and Fall in Love [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:09:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2027973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_artsy_lexus/pseuds/an_artsy_lexus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world resets itself to a modern AU but Jean remembers everything? Suspicious~ Also, child-speak is adorable and we get to watch everyone grow up from toddler years, so... Yeah. This should be good. This is the prequel to something I will be writing later, Fall in Love, the second part of this series.<br/>((I am so sorry for the minor hiatus it will be over by the end of next week I just need to finish band camp. It's kicking my butt... ^^;))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Kindergarten Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever, so I hope it's okay! ^^; CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS EXTREMELY WELCOME!

          My name is Jean Kirschtein. I am seventeen years old, but I am recording a story that started when I was just a toddler, probably about three years old. We do not live in the world of the titans anymore, but what is called a "normal" world. I know that most of you readers probably won't believe this, but… The world with the titans shown in our series was very, very real. After our story finished, I don't know exactly what happened, but everything disappeared and the world seemed to reset itself. No one remembered the world of terror, where titans reigned and humans were second on the food chain. No one except for me. I remember every single bit of it, and I always have. I started talking about it as soon as I could talk. At first, my parents passed off my vivid memories as reoccurring bad dreams, but I knew better. Once a year or two had passed, I gave up trying to explain my memories to people, since everyone passed them off as fantasy.

          The first time I met someone I remembered, I was at preschool, the first day of it. I walked in and sat down in a corner, knees to my chest and head resting on my knees, cutting myself off from everyone else. I had long ago stopped trying to explain my memories to people. I was tracing circles on the silly alphabet carpet with my finger when someone else walked up to me. I looked up lazily and sighed, but then I noticed his face. "Hey, a' you okay? You look kin'a sad. D'you wanna play wif me?" the little boy smiled kindly and extended his hand out to me. He had short, black hair. And freckles. So many freckles. And there was only one thing on my mind.

          "Ma'co?" I asked. The wind was knocked out of me. I had never once expected to meet someone I recognized so soon.

          "How'd you know?!" he gasped, giggling. "I wasn't wearin' a nametag or anythin'!"

          "Uh, umm, I… I dunno… Y' jus' kinda seemed like a Ma'co… Dat's all…" I mumbled, blushing a little, and wiggling my head further into my knees.

          "Oh!" He giggled again. "Wha's your name?"

          "Jan." I stated. "Zh- ahn." "Okay, den, Zh-an! D'ya wanna play 'o not?" he asked again, holding out his hand insistently.

          "Sure…" I grumbled, taking his hand. He pulled me up and led me off to the little circle of blocks he had been playing with, while I thought over and over again about the fact that even as a preschooler, he had pronounced my name correctly.

          We started to play together every day. Preschool came and went, and the discovery was made that we lived a couple houses apart from each other. We learned from our parents that we would be going to the same elementary school, and spent the entire summer playing together, at either my house or his, and occasionally at the park down the street.

          On the first day of Kindergarten, I found more people from my memory. Marco and I were sitting next to each other on the circular rug in the front of the classroom, watching other students file in next to us, each with varying shades of excitement and terror present on their faces. Marco had a happy grin on his face and a tight grip on my hand, while I had a slight smile.

          All of the sudden, there was a loud shout emanating from the back of the room, and we all turned around to see a little brunette boy with messy hair and blazing turquoise eyes refusing to let his mother leave. Behind him, a little girl with long black hair and a red scarf tugged at his waist, trying to pull him away from the grip he had on his mother's legs.

          She was as cute as ever.

          "NOOOOO! MOM, I DON'T WANNA LEAVE!!!" he yelled at her, tears in his eyes as he gripped her legs even tighter.

          "Eren, sweetie, I have to go to work." she ruffled his hair and tried to pry his arms off her legs.

          "MOM!!!" he wailed, only to be picked up from behind by a blonde man who had been standing by the door with Mrs. Jaeger, who placed Eren over his shoulder. The man plopped Eren down on the mat and went back to the door.

          "Fank you, Mi'ter Hannes, sir." the girl said, giving him a funny little salute, with her right hand in a fist over her heart, and her left hand in a fist behind her back.

          "No problem, Mikasa." he laughed, ruffling her hair. "Make sure you keep that troublemaker of a brother of yours in line!"

          "Yeth, Mi'ter Hannes, sir!" she giggled quietly, hiding her smile behind her scarf, and ran over to the little boy, who was now sniffling angrily a couple people away from me.

          "How co' he?" Eren sniffed and wiped his eyes. "Hannes- he- he betrayed me." "Eren, mama had ta go ta wook, y'know dat ath well ath I do." Mikasa patted him on the back, smoothing her skirt as she sat down next to him. "Bethides, Armin thould be here thoon. Don't'cha mith 'im?"

          "*hic* Yeah, I guess…" Eren wiped away the last of his tears and stayed where he was, pouting with a red face, next to Mikasa.

          "I know dem…" I whispered to Marco, staring at the odd couple.

          "How?" he asked incredulously, whipping his head around to face me. "We're together all da time and I've ne'wer met 'em!"

          "I dunno…" I said. 'Dey jus' seem… familiar… Like how I knew yo' name as thoon as we met."

          "Oh. Huh. D'ya wanna go say hi to dem?" he asked again, tilting his head.

          "Nah…" I shook my head, turning back around to face the center of the circle, then glancing over to Marco with a smirk. "You're mo' import'nt." We both burst out laughing, holding hands all the while, when a little boy with shortish, straight blonde hair and light blue eyes peeked around the corner of the classroom and looked in, searching for someone (obviously Eren and Mikasa). He found what he was looking for and his eyes glimmered as he ran into the classroom and pounced on Eren's back, hugging him around the neck.

          "Eren!" he squeaked happily "I missed you so much!" The little boy buried his head into Eren's neck while the trio laughed, Mikasa ruffled the little boy's hair, and Eren hugged the boy's arms.

          "We mithed 'ou, too, Armin." Mikasa giggled.

          Boy was that out of character.

          Then again, in Memory, I met Mikasa after the Colossus Titan incident occurred, so I never really got to see her before she was scarred for life…

          Marco and I were staring at the laughing trio's reunion when the teacher, a kind looking woman with brown hair, stepped into the room.

          Petra.

          Oh my god. My Kindergarten teacher was Petra.

          "Oh, no…" I grumbled, curling up into a ball, letting go of Marco's hand and hiding my face.

          "Wha's wrong, Zh-an?" he puts his hand on my shoulder. "D'you know her, too?" I nod vigorously. "Heheh! Dis'll be inderestin', den!" he laughed, taking away his hand and turning to face the middle of the circle again, grinning and snickering as he rocked back and forth, cross-legged.

          Most of Kindergarten passed smoothly. Marco and I became friends with the trio, and we learned that the reason they had been so excited to see Armin was that he had spent the previous summer at his Grandparents' funeral, then stayed the rest of the summer at home so that he could stay with his family. Everything was okay now, though, he insisted.

          However, on the last day of school, the class decided to do Playground Marriages.

          Big mistake.

          BIIIIIG mistake.

          "Come on, it'll be fun!" a girl named Mina tugged my arm towards a corner of the playground where our class was gathered. I sighed and Marco followed along, skipping slightly behind me as I dragged my heels. We arrived at a rough circle formed by Kindergarteners next to the fence of the playground, behind the swings. Mina ran to the middle and stood on a little mound of sand. She yelled at us all to find partners and said that if it was our crush that it was even better. The last person left without a partner was supposed to be the priest. I thought about it for a second… Crush, huh? I guess I liked Mikasa… So, I ran over to her side and tugged at her sleeve, and asked if she wanted to be my partner.

          Almost immediately, I realized my mistake. Eren flew at me and tackled me down onto the ground, holding me down so that I couldn't get up.

          "Don't worry, Mikasa, I'll protect you! I'll make sure that no one but me can be your partner!" he yelled over to her.

          "No, Er-" she reached out her hand to stop him.

          "See, John! There's no way she would want to be your partner!" he cackled, sitting on my chest and pinning me down, pronouncing my name wrong for spite.

          "EREN." she snapped, glaring down at him. He squeaked as she picked him up by the neck of his shirt, placed him to the side of me, and offered me a hand to get up. "Sorry, Jean, I don't think I should partner up…" she said, shooting a look at Eren. "I'll just make sure everyone else is partnered up happily!" she grinned.

          "No, Mikasa, I-" I started and she shook her head, turning me around and pushing me towards Marco.

          "How about you be partners with Marco?" she offered, letting go of my shoulders and turning around towards Eren and helping him back up. "I mean, you hold hands with him and stuff all the time in class, right?"

          "But, Mikasa, I-" I had been blushing furiously at this point. "I- I HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU!" I shouted, closing my eyes and cringing. Everything was quiet for a moment. Then, I slowly opened my eyes.

          "What did you just say?" Eren asked me, voice low and eyes deadly.

          "I-I-uh…" I stuttered. "Um, nevermind, I meant, umm… Yeah, I'll be partners with Marco." I said, tears in my eyes as I backed away and turned around, grabbing Marco's hand and running away.

          "JEAN!" Mikasa called, running after us with concern after growling something at Armin and Eren that scared Eren so much that he backed up into Armin's grasp and nodded vigorously with his eyes wide. Marco let himself be dragged along, looking at me with worry as we ran towards the monkey bars. I slid against the support for one of the ladders and plopped onto the ground, curling up into a ball, and started crying, arms hugging my knees. Marco sat down next to me and patted my shoulder.

          "I'm sorry, Jean." he said. "Do you wanna go back and be partners for the playground marriages thing?" I shook my head and sobbed into my knees. Mikasa finally caught up to us and sat down on her knees in front of me.

          "Jean?" she said tenderly, touching my arm. I winced and buried myself even further into my arms. "Jean, please." she begged. I peaked at her over the top of my arms. "I'm sorry about Eren, Jean." she sighed, letting go of my arm and letting her hand drop to her side. "I'm sorry, I don't have a crush on you, but I'd like it if we could keep being friends!" she smiled slightly and held out her hand. "Come on, I get to be the priest. I made Eren and Armin be partners." I sniffed and took her hand, grabbing Marco's tightly with the other. He squeezed my hand back and smiled at me. Stupid adorable freckle-face. We trudged back to the circle of kids and proceeded with the ceremony, pairs including Marco and me, Eren and Armin, Mina and Nac, Franz and Hannah, and the rest of the kids from our class that I didn't know from Memory.

          Marco begged me to make flower crowns with him after the ceremony, which he insisted showed that we were now Playground Married, and laughed as I fumbled with the stalks of daisies.


	2. Elementary School and Moving Vans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Switching points of view~ Yay! This is Marco, so just remember that, okay?

          The summer before first grade was very fun - Jean and I played together all the time. His favorite game was when we pretended we were these weird kinda soldier things that killed these giants called "titans". He took it really seriously. When I came over to visit, he tended to avoid his parents, which made me a little sad and kinda confused, but he insisted it was because they didn't understand something that was very important to him, so I just accepted it and moved on. We spent more time at my house, where my mom was always making a batch of some sort of cookie. We played video games, watched movies, and read books together, but mostly, we played imagination games in our backyards and the park.

          The beginning of the school year was not very fun. Eren still hadn't forgiven Jean for confessing to Mikasa, so they were enemies and argued every chance they got, but Armin and I always managed to stop them before the fighting got physical. Jean and I were in a class with Armin, Hannah, Franz, and Samuel while Eren and Mikasa were in a class with Mina, Nac, Thomas, and Mylius. We all ate lunch and had two recesses together, but that didn't mean that Eren and Jean didn't get many chances to fight.

          There were a few schoolyard romances that started thanks to the little nudge they were given at the end of last year. Hannah and Franz were total lovebirds and kissed whenever the teacher wasn't looking and giggled as they snuck little pieces of their lunches to each other under the table. Mina and Nac were quiet, but sometimes, if you were quick enough, you would catch them brushing their hands together and blushing.

          Our teachers were okay, but nothing noteworthy. Jean and I had good grades, as expected by our parents, and I started to become interested in art. I loved to draw, even though I wasn't very good, but that didn't stop me from doodling houses and birds and horses and stick figures all over my papers. Jean didn't like to draw as much, but he really liked to write stories. Sometimes, on the weekends, we would write picture books together about our adventures while we were playing, about our lives, or about school and our friends (and enemies).

          The year passed without much happening, except for me getting a how to draw book and some sketchbooks and pencils, while Jean received several notebooks and pens for Christmas. Our stories also got longer and more detailed.

          In third grade, the nicknames started. I was dubbed "Freckles", and -don't ask me why- Jean was "Horseface". Eren was "Titan Killer" since even though he was shorter than me, his verbal fights still managed to bring fifth graders to tears. Mikasa was "Mother Goose" since she was always looking after Eren and Armin. Armin was "Bookie" since he was very smart and was never caught without a book.

          In fourth grade, Mikasa finally came into the character archetype she had from what Jean called his "Memory". (Keep in mind at this point he hadn't told me about his Memory yet. That comes in later.)

          Oh her birthday, her real parents and little brother were murdered right in front of her in an alley they were pulled into while they were walking home from dinner. She didn't come to school for a month. Eren, Armin, Jean, and I visited her all the time, and Eren's family adopted her. Eren and Jean even managed to stop fighting for long enough to make sure she was okay. She was never the same. She didn't smile anymore. She was more protective of the four of us and was very cold to others. She became more introverted and became one of the smartest and strongest people in our class. Her nickname changed to "Ice Queen".

          Fifth grade was the best. New people joined our class, and everyone from Jean's Memory that we had met so far was in our class as well. New kids included Reiner, Bertolt, Annie, Ymir, Krista, Connie, Sasha, Daz, and Tom. Everyone else; Thomas, Mina, Franz, Hannah, Samuel, Nac, Mylius, Mikasa, Eren, and Armin were in our class as well. We formed a slight group and tended to hang out a little away from the rest of the class. The "main characters" from Jean's Memory hung out together the most, and each of us broke into two- to-three person groups that were even closer. We all bonded very closely.

          Reiner, Bertolt, and Annie were the class athletes. Ymir and Krista were the kids who loved to learn languages. Connie and Sasha were the class clowns (more like class idiots, according to Jean). Mikasa, Eren, and Armin were the "best friends forever". Mikasa specifically was the "perfect" one. Jean and I were the "best bros". Jean was the writer. And I was the artist.

          Jean's love of writing only grew, along with his parents' disapproval of it. He wrote lots of short stories for me to illustrate and some longer chapter books, usually unfinished, for himself. I drew just as much as Jean wrote. I illustrated his short stories and drew everything around me when I got the chance. We didn't like to admit it, but he wrote fanfiction and I drew fanart, under pen names and Tumblerr URLs that we NEVER told anyone from school about. We both loved this webcomic thing called Homebound, and this anime called Italia. We kept up with this site called Cinnamonroll to keep up with all of the latest animes and we checked our bookstore constantly for the latest mangas. We were careful to never tell anyone at school about any of this, especially about the anime and comic conventions that we _never_ went to. Not even _one_. Of course not. We didn't like those things. Right? Nope. No way. (We went to every single convention in our area and made sure our cosplays were so good that no one recognized us, including our parents. Jean's older sister was the only one who knew. She helped make our costumes, do our makeup, bring us to conventions, be the guardian, etc., etc.)

          Before long, we were heading into middle school, with several years of drawing and writing under our belts. Jean was taller and broader than me, had a paler complexion, and had shaggy brown hair and a constant grimace, while I was slightly shorter and skinnier, but still muscular, with neat, short black hair, tanner skin with lots of freckles and a smile present on my face most of the time.

          But of course, _something_ had to go wrong.

          I was over at Jean's house, watching some horror movie with him, but I was fidgeting and messing with the hem of my jeans. The corners of my mouth were slightly pointed down, and my eyebrows were knitted together in worry, while my lips pursed together and I twirled my finger around, twisting the fabric of the hem. Jean paused the movie.

          "Dude, what's wrong? You love this movie, and you've been fidgeting all day. Plus, you never knit your eyebrows unless there's something you're worried about telling me." he reached over and poked the space between my eyebrows softly, making me pull back and tense up in surprise, but at least it broke my melancholy. "Seriously, what's wrong." I sighed and looked to the side again.

          "Nothing..." I softly whispered under my breath. Jean rolled his eyes and pounced on me from across the couch, sending the remote flying. He started to tickle me.

          "There is _no_ way that there is _nothing_ wrong." he grunted, tickling intensifying as he sneered down at me. "I'm not gonna stop until you tell me!" It took several minutes of me thrashing around and sobbing with laughter for me to finally give in and tell Jean to stop. As I caught my breath, he picked up the remote again and sat down next to me on the couch.

          "Umm... Well..." I bit my lip and knit my eyebrows again. Jean looked at me with concern. "I'm... I'm kinda moving..." Jean's eyebrows shot up and he grabbed hold of my shoulders tightly with both hands and started shaking me.

          "Wait, _seriously_ ?! Like, this summer?! When? To where? Will I ever see you again? How far away is it? Are you moving back? Marco, _SPEAK TO ME!!!_ " he shouted as me shook me.

          " _JEAN. JEAN. JEAN. JEAN. JEAN. CALM. DOWN. STOP. IT!!"_ I cried. He stopped shaking me, but still held both of my shoulders with a tight grip and looked directly into my eyes with heartbreak. I sighed. "Yes, I'm moving this summer. In late July. To Jinae. It's kinda close, so I think I'll be able to visit once or twice a month. I don't know if I'll move back to Trost." I look up at him to see him still worried, but less so then before.

          "Oh, it's just to Jinae? Okay... That should be okay..." he said, his grip loosening slightly. "How about instead of writing stories together, you can use your pen tablet to draw and I'll type and send the stories to you. Would that be okay?"

          "Oh... Y-yeah, I guess so..." I answered.

          "What's your new house gonna look like?" he asked, his eyes lighting up, finally letting go of my shoulders as he balled his hands up into fists and pounded on his knees, bouncing up and down on the couch. "Will I be able to come visit?"

          He listed off another chain of questions as I told him about my new house, a little farmhouse on the outskirts of town closer to Trost. We would have about 20 acres, and would be farming to help make a living and sell our crops at the Jinae Farmer's Market, in addition to my father working in an office building in Trost. It'll be a big change from the urban cityscape of Trost, but I would manage. Jean would be welcome anytime, especially since we would be needing a little help with the baby twins and all. The conversation continued and the remote was left forgotten on the table while Jean and I animatedly discussed the move and our next story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't edit this, so if you feel like it, tell me if I need to.


	3. Secret Nighttime Visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I DO NOT CONDONE RUNNING OFF IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT WITHOUT TELLING YOUR PARENTS, ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN. PLEASE BE SAFE.

          Later that summer, Marco moved away to Jinae and I was stuck alone for the rest of the summer in the same neighborhood as the last person I wanted to see, as well as the only other person that would really put up with me: Eren Fucking Jaeger. He acted the same as from Memory, and scuffles happened often and tended to be violent. I spent the majority of the rest of that summer sitting in my room with my laptop, skyping with Freckleface and writing stories for him to illustrate. The two of us started a joint blog on Tumblerr that summer so that we could post our work together. It got pretty popular, and our mailbox for it was always full, so I spent a lot of time answering questions and responding to mail as well.

          I loved to write for Marco; stories for picture books tended to be one of my fortes. Actually, we started to make picture books targeted more towards people our age than anything. We posted our own individual works on our shared blog as well. One of my favorite stories was the one he allowed me to write about our Titan-killing game from our elementary school years, the one about Memory. He drew everything so perfectly that it took me some time to convince myself again that, no, Marco did NOT remember this, and that I had just managed to describe everything extremely well.

          Close to the end of August, Marco mentioned over Skype that it was okay for me to come over, as long as I got the okay from my parents. I, of course, lying about telling my parents about this, said that it was fine for me to come over. We ended the call and I leaped out of bed. I gathered a couple of wrinkled, old t-shirts and jeans lying around the floor of my room. Underwear, socks, deodorant, ratty old sneakers, notebooks, pens, hairbrush, toothbrush, iPod, laptop, a little bit of money... I scribbled out a note on a piece of scrap paper lying around and left it on the kitchen table, saying I was visiting Marco, and dashed out the door with my duffel bag of stuff. I ran as fast as I could to the nearest bus stop and whipped out my iPod to check the time. 3 am. Okay, well, I hope Marco knew how badly I needed to see him. Having just Eren to talk to over the remainder of the summer wasn't going to cut it. Marco was my best friend, and I needed him. Now. Right now. The bus rolled up and I snapped my head back up, shoving my iPod in my pocket, hopping onto the bus, paying my fare, and heading to the back of the bus, where I stared out the window for 2 or 3 hours until we arrived in Jinae. I was left at a bus stop in the middle of a fairly small, quaint downtown area and took out my iPod again, asking Marco for directions from downtown **.**

**From: Marco**

**What the heck? You're in downtown already? You just took off without telling your parents again didn't you?**

**To: Marco**

**...maybe...**

**From: Marco**

**JEAN.**

**To: Marco**

**okay maybe i did, but right now i need to get to your house so i dont freeze my butt off out here**

**From: Marco**

**Fine, here:**

** <link: map of Jinae, directions to xxxxx xx rd., Jinae from Jinae>**

**To: Marco**

**thanks dude**

**From: Marco**

**Just get here safely, you dumb silly idiot.**

**To: Marco**

**aye aye sir**

          I took off in a jog, following the directions. Soon, I ended up at the edge of the farming district.

          I decided walking was better than jogging.

          I passed property after property of 20+ acre homes, the sleepy-looking houses close to the road for easy access and the pasture/orchard land in the back for privacy. I yawned a little with droopy eyes as I searched for the correct address in the dark. I noticed it was cold, even though I had my favorite jean jacket on. Oh, well. At last, I found the correct address and jogged up the driveway, hopping up onto the front porch and sending Marco another text.

**To: Marco**

**im here you doofus**

          I heard a small *ding* from the other side of the door -a text alert- and the noise of a chair being pushed back, something being dropped, and a couple pounding footsteps, then watched as the door flew open before I had the chance to look up from my iPod. Marco stood, wide-eyed with the door handle clutched tightly in one hand and his little flip phone grasped tightly in the other. His normally tame black hair was disheveled, his plaid pajamas were wrinkled, there were bags under his eyes and lines on his face from sleeping on uneven fabric. His feet were tangled up in some sort of blanket that had been thrown on the floor, and there was a kitchen chair with a pillow lying half-on it haphazardly. There was a flashlight that had been thrown on the ground. Marco looked like he had just suffered through on off his all-night drawing sprees, but his eyes were wide and glittering. I stared back in disbelief, holding my breath, clutching the strap of my duffel bag, suddenly becoming aware of how I looked; un-brushed hair just as disheveled as Marco's, a wrinkled old t-shirt, a jacket slipping off one of my shoulders, jeans with a belt kinda-sorta keeping them up on my waist, long not-so-white socks stained with dirt, old sneakers, and a duffel bag zipped _almost_ all the way. Marco looked me up and down, then stifled a laugh, covering his mouth with the hand holding his phone.

          "What's so funny?!" I demanded, pouting embaressedly.

          "Nothing, Cinderella." he giggled and glanced at me over his hand.

          "You're not looking too bad yourself, Sleeping Beauty." I grumbled, glaring at him. "You gonna let me in, or am I gonna turn into Grayson's teacher from Fae Tail?" This made Marco genuinely laugh, and he swung the door wider, letting me in.

          "Be my guest, be my guest." he sung, laughing. I punched his shoulder lightly as he closed the door behind me. He laughed, and led me through the dark house, holding my hand and telling me when to step over things that the baby twins or his mother had left lying around. We ended up in the kitchen, where he turned on the lights over the bar. I plopped myself down with a sigh and looked up at him. He was walking around, busying himself with making two of his famous hot cocoas. He soon brought over two steaming mugs, extending one out to me, which I take gratefully. I dropped my duffel bag on the floor by the stool I had been sitting on and we walked over to the small kitchen table and sat across from each other, sipping our cocoas. I looked up at him to find the freckled little thing sighing contentedly, eyes closed, cocoa mug held close to his mouth, and a cocoa mustache spread above his lips. I chuckled but quickly covered it up with a cough. His eyes flickered open.

          "What's so funny?" he asked, miffed, mug still held in the air. I pointed my finger to the little area above my lip with a grin and the look of realization that crossed his face was hilarious. He placed his mug down on the table and hurriedly rubbed his lips with his sleeve.

          "You majestic beast, you." I chuckled, flicking his forehead.

          "I will have you know that I am quite the majestic beast, unlike what you seem to think." he pouted.

          "Uuuuh-huh..." I answered sarcastically, which earned me a punch in the shoulder and a laugh. After we calmed down and drank our cocoa for a couple more minutes, Marco spoke up, swirling his cocoa with a spoon.

          "The twins gave a new name to hot cocoa the other day." he said, gazing into the light chocolatey smoothness.

          "They can talk already?! Wow! What'd they name it?" I asked. Marco looked up at me with a smirk.

          "Hot Marcocoa." he said.

          "You can't be serious."

          "I'm dead serious."

          "Oh, god." I said, laughing "That's hilarious! I can't wait to see them!"

          "Yeah, they're cute, alright." Marco said.

          "Dude, did you just call something _cute_ _?_ "

          "The twins _are_ cute!"

          "Cute is not a manly word."

          "So what?"

          "You are a man."

          "I am an eleven year old boy. And I can call things cute if I want to."

          "Okie-dokie." I said, leaning back in my chair and stretching with a yawn. "Story night or bed?" A mischievous grin spread across the entirety of Marco's face.

          "Story night." he said, pushing back his chair as he ran to grab his sketchbook and pencils. My eyes lit up and I dug through my bag to grab out my notebooks and pens.

          This was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the "Marcocoa" idea from the fic As Much As I Ever Could by shingekinoboyfriends. (It's really good and you should read it because they're way better at writing than me.)


	4. Story Time and Scary Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, seriously, don't go outside at night like this, okay? I'm a bad influence on all of you. Jean and Marco are being bad. Be safe. Please.

          Jean has the best ideas. He's the bestest best friend ever, I swear. I ran upstairs, slipping around corners and pounding down the hall to my room to grab my sketchbook. I snatched it up off my desk and grab a box full of supplies and ran back downstairs, to find Jean waiting at the bottom with a pile of notebooks and a plethora of pens and highlighters.

          "Where to?" he asked me, eyes glittering. I beamed and rushed down the rest of the stairs back into the kitchen, where I left a note for my parents on the fridge.

          _Jean came over. Hot Marcocoa dishes in sink. Out Storying. Be back soon._

          I ran back to Jean who was waiting by the entryway, grabbed a backpack off one of the hooks on the wall, emptied it, and shoved our stuff into it. I gave Jean the bag, which he shouldered, and took his hand, dragging him out the door, locking it and putting the spare keys into my pocket. I ran over to my bike, which was parked by the side of the house, and hopped on, insisting that Jean sit behind me, with which he complied. We took off, pajamas, falling-down jeans, un-brushed hair and all, down my driveway and along the street, heading towards a small quiet place where I knew inspiration would strike.

          We rode quickly down the gravel road, standing on the pedals of my mountain bike, Jean gripping around my waist and standing on the back wheel. I took a sharp turn into a dirt path leading into the forest along the right side of the road, Jean faltering and hugging me tighter as we sped down the trail. We soon came to a large clearing in the middle of the trees, where I stopped and looked up, breathing in the sharp night air and staring at the clear sky, dotted with the occasional small cloud. It was a dark, midnight blue, speckled with beautiful bright stars, with a full moon residing bright and resilient over everything, mirroring light in a deep white-yellow hue, the craters on its surface shockingly visible. The damp ground dotted with morning dew and covered with a soft carpet of freshly trimmed grass showed off the small patches of flowers enhancing the landscape. The trees surrounding the clearing stood like guardians, making all who found the clearing feel safe and calm. In the center of the clearing rose a tall, old, strong cherry tree. It's branches stretched widely and it's wood was knotted and twisted, but it was a rough kind of beauty. Jean breathed with amazement at the simple beauty of the landscape.

          "Marco..." he said, eyes wide as he looked around arms still wrapped around my waist and legs helping to support the bike. "It's beautiful."

          "I knew you would like it." I grinned, hopping off the bike, which forced Jean to do so as well. I started wheeling it towards the cherry tree and Jean fell in step beside me.

          "So you draw here every day now?" he asked. I nodded, grinning with appreciation up at the big trees branches.

          "Isn't it perfect?"

          "Yeah..."

          We sat down next to each other, leaning on the tree and pressing our shoulders into each other. We started Storying.

          Now, let me explain. "Storying" was the word we had made up for what we do together, since it's not just writing, or just drawing, but instead doing both of those things together to create one story. We would come up with a story prompt, I would draw the settings and characters that came to mind, Jean would write a plot, and I would draw scenes from the story while Jean embellished his writing. We still do this, even after all these years.

          The prompt we came up with that night was "a boy who finds new beginnings under an old cherry tree". I drew a little boy, looking slightly like Jean, and another little boy, looking slightly like me, and a cherry tree spirit. I drew the clearing, the forest path, and a little house in the woods. The story went a little something like this*. We finished up, and gathered up our things, looking up at the sky again as we did.

          The moon had disappeared over the horizon, and the sun was just starting to peek up over the trees. The sky, still a deep blue, was tinted purple, pink, and orange on one edge, as if someone had tie-dyed it. The stars were starting to disappear from sight, and Jean and I wheeled my bike back to the trail. We walked back to my house, too tired to bike, and Jean collapsed on one of the big armchairs in the living room as soon as we returned. I locked the door and returned the spare key to where it belonged, washing the dishes we had left, and checked the time.

          6 am.

          Oops.

          I returned to the living room to find Jean curled up in the armchair, snoring softly. I took the backpack he had dropped on the ground and propped it up next to the chair. I pulled a blanket over him neatly and curled up in the armchair next to his, cocooning myself in blankets.

          Everything seemed okay.

* * *

          I was awoken by the sound of someone falling on the floor, a scream, and a groan. I snapped awake, throwing off my blanket and getting up, staring at the boy who had just fallen out of an armchair in his sleep and was now crawling up onto his knees, rubbing his head and wincing.

         "JEAN!" I screamed.

          He looked up at me. I wish I could forget the look on his face. I've only seen him look this vulnerable once since then. There were tears falling from his cheeks, and his eyes were wide, staring at me.

          "Marco..." he whispered weakly, his voice breaking.

          "Jean... Oh my god... Are... Are you okay?" I asked, concerned, getting down onto my knees and wiping his eyes, but more tears just poured down after the ones I wiped away. He touched the right side of my face, as if making sure it was still intact, still staring at me.

          "You're- You're _alive._ " he said, grabbing my shoulders tightly. "You're alive..." he breathed, staring into my eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks and making his shirt plaster itself to his chest. He pulled me into a bone-crushing hug. "Oh my god. You're _alive._ " He sobbed into my shoulder. I hugged him back gently, rubbing along his shoulder blades and whispering to reassure him that I was right there. All I could do was wonder what kind of dream could've been so bad that he would wake up screaming, thrashing, and sobbing, only able to reassure himself that I was still alive.

          He wouldn't explain that episode to me for many years afterwards, and I'm glad he waited to tell me.

          I don't understand how he managed to seem normal all those years.

          I think I would've gone insane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Later on, I will write the story they wrote, and illustrate it, okay? Then I'll post it under this work.


	5. WAKE UP!

          "Two on your left, Jean!" Armin shouts as he zips away to the right with his 3DMG. "I'll get the one on the right!"

          "Got it!" I yell back, maneuvering to a nearby rooftop and running along the edge towards the titans. Ugh... This isn't going very smoothly. I can't tell what the hell Eren is doing, and there seems to be no end to the titans streaming in through the broken wall from outside. I quickly jump up, spinning around and using my blades to slice through one of the titans' necks and land on the roof on the opposite side of the road, running and jumping again to slice through the other titan's neck and landing back where I started. All of the sudden, I hear a loud roar, and feel a deep rumble under my feet, like an earthquake. I look behind me and see that Eren has finally managed to get his shit together and has picked up the gigantic boulder that he is supposed to be using to block up the gate... again. The colossal titan had decided to make yet another appearance recently and it was Eren's job to clean up its mess and our job to protect the suicidal blockhead yet again. I watch as he stomps his way back to the gate, almost as if he was annoyed by needing to lift the gigantic boulder a second time. I grumble and set off yet again, running along the roof and zooming down into a side street, where I land on the ground and run a couple paces to look for fallen comrades. It was decided this time that it would be easier to record and collect the bodies as we went, and I was pinned with the job. Marco had been sympathetic and offered to stay with me and help, but I insisted he should focus on his own job instead. Jogging along the barren side street, I suddenly see something I should check out. Someone is leaning up against the wall, holding themselves up with their left arm and right leg, sitting on the ground. I run over, seeing they are faintly breathing, and decide it would be kindest to not let them die alone.

          I wish I hadn't gone over there.

          Marco, missing most of the right side of his body from the waist up, is sitting up against the wall, blood splattered everywhere, and taking raspy breaths. I run to him and sit in front of him, talking to him, making sure he knows I'm there.

          "Hey, hey, dude... You okay? You're a little hurt. Lemme just patch you up... you're gonna be alright. Marco? Hey- Hey, Marco? You there?" I rub his left shoulder, shaking, tears in my eyes, and try to keep him alive with me.

          "Oh... Hey, Jean... Sorry... I can't help you count the bodies... I guess I'll be one of them." he replies faintly, with a laugh. "Don't worry about me, okay? I'll... I'll be okay. Go... Go do your job..." he tries to shoo me away, but I shake my head and hold his left cheek in my hand, rubbing it gently, feeling the hot wet tears and blood mix together as they drip down.

          "No, dude, you're staying with me, okay? Marco, you're gonna be okay, everything's gonna be okay, you'll get to go back home someday and introduce me to your mom and we can spend Christmas together and kill all the titans and make sure that suicidal blockhead stays out of trouble, and everything will be okay, alright? Marco, can you hear me? Marco? Marco, hey-" I shake him slightly, and notice his skin turning cold under my palm.

          "Jean... Thank you so much... You're an amazing friend... And... And I just want you to know that.. I... I'll always-" his breath hitches and his eye glazes over, smile on his lips as he gazes at me. I see my reflection in his eye and feel the my own tears streaming down my cheeks. I feel his blood start to dry on my hands, and I panic, not quite sure what to do now that my best friend is gone.

          "Marco. Hey, Marco. Marco. Hey. Wake up. Dude, we're gonna be late getting back tonight. Weren't we gonna share a table again? Marco. Marco. Marco! Hey, answer me!" I say, shaking him, sobbing. "Marco! Marco! Oh my god. You can't be dead. You aren't dead. Wake up. Wake up. WAKE UP!" I scream.

          I was so focused on Marco that I hadn't noticed the titan that had come up behind me until I was in its grasp. I didn't make any move to escape it.

          "Hey, hey, Marco. Dude, I'll be right there. I promise. Everything will be al-" I say, shakily, and then stop as the top half of my body is bitten off and I am swallowed by a titan. As I fall down it's throat, I watch as my legs follow me down. Huh. How funny. I feel impact as I hit the bottom of the titan's stomach, but it isn't wet. It felt like a hardwood floor, and there was a blanket around me. And I had my legs. And- and Marco was right there. And he was alive.

          "JEAN!" he screamed.

          I looked up at him. He looked a lot younger. Had I been dreaming? Or was I dreaming them? Or was I dead? My head wasn't clearing and it really hurt. I thought I hit it when I fell. Marco's blanket was still half wrapped around him, and his plaid pajamas were all messed up. His hair was messy, which was kinda adorable, but he's my best friend, and we're guys, and he was not adorable, so I didn't admit it. He looked concerned. Why was he concerned? I'm the one who was worried. He died. He was dead. But- but there he was, right then. I- I didn't understand...

          "Marco..." I whispered, staring at him, trying to comprehend the fact that, yes, my best friend was very much alive, as was I, apparently, because my head hurt. He came over and knelt down in front of me, wiping away my tears. I... I was crying? I sat still, shaking and trying to think, but I couldn't, and...

          "Jean... Oh my god... Are... Are you okay?" he asked, trying to comfort me. I didn't really know how to answer. I couldn't think. He was rubbing my shoulder blades to comfort me, and kept reassuring me that he was right there. But I was the one doing that for him... And he was dying... And what the hell was going on? I noticed that the right side of his face was there, and touched it, making sure it was real and that he was really right here and really alive.

          "You're- You're _alive_." I said, pulling him into a hug, making sure he was right here. I still couldn't comprehend anything that was happening. All I could do was make sure that Marco was alive and I was alive and everything's okay and why were there no titans? Where were we? Oh, right Marco's house. Why was I at Marco's house? I thought we were sealing up the hole in the wall. Oh, wait, we were storying in the forest. I... What? What's going on?! "You're alive... Oh my god. You're _alive_." I mumbled, sobbing into his shoulder. We stayed like this for a couple of minutes until my brain finally sorted itself out. I remembered that I had ran away from my house in Trost and was now with Marco, after storying into to the wee hours of the morning, in his house, in Jinae, in modern times, where there are no titans. Marco went to go make some more marcocoas, and left me in the chair I had been sleeping in, cocooned in a blanket and taking deep breaths, waiting for the tears to stop. He soon came back, still extremely concerned, with two steaming cups of marcocoa in his hands. I took one gratefully and sipped it, calming down. He sat in the chair next to me, kicking his legs back and forth.

          "... Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked, pausing from staring down into his mug to look up at me. I shake my head. How could I tell my best friend that i had just watched him die? We were eleven years old! There was _no_ way I was telling him about Memory right now! That would take too long to explain. Not only that, but the dream wasn't even from Memory. It was just a nightmare that had happened to relate to Memory. I sip my marcocoa again and center my thoughts around my memories from Now. I closed my eyes, remembering the details of last night; the clear sky, the beautiful clearing, Marco's smile, Marco... I took a deep breath and drunk my marcocoa again, opening my eyes and giving my best friend a slight smile.

          "I'm okay now. Thanks, Marco." I said. He smiled up at me. One of his truly happy smiles.

          "Good! I'm glad." he said, grinning at me. "Do you want anything to eat?" he asked, getting up. I followed him into the kitchen, blanket still wrapped around my shoulders, and sat at the bar like I had last night. Marco rifled through his cabinets. "Let's see. We've got... stuff for french toast? Is that good?" he asked, looking back at me hopefully. I gave him an approving smile and nod, and he gave back a happy snicker, starting to run around the kitchen, busying himself with cooking.

          "What's that noise?..." I heard a sleepy voice and slow, quiet footsteps descend the stairs. "Marco... What? Oh! Jean, I didn't know you were here." Marco's mother, messily wrapped in a bathrobe, appeared with bedhead, holding onto the handrail on the stairs. "Just... Make sure you clean up, you two, alright?" she said with a yawn, wandering into the kitchen to make herself some coffee.

          "Alright, mom!" Marco answered cheerfully, stirring the mixture for the french toast. I watched from my place at the bar, smiling quietly, and sipped my marcocoa again. I was just grateful that it had just been a dream and that, right here, right now, right in front of me, my best friend was alive and smiling and happy. I sighed and closed my eyes, embracing the happiness of the moment and letting my thoughts drift off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short. I just wanted to get Jean's dream down. I'll try to make the next chapter longer! =P


	6. A Weekend Together

          Alright, seriously? I make the _best_ french toast _ever_. And when Jean is looking as bad as he did, seeing me happy seems to cheer him up, as does food, and I love to cook, so everything usually turns out okay as far as cheering him up goes. I was happily flitting about the kitchen, making french toast, while my mom sat at the kitchen table drinking her coffee and my best friend sat, draped in blankets, at the bar drinking marcocoa. He seemed a lot calmer than a few minutes ago, and I'm glad my mom wasn't awake enough at the time to notice a crying, screaming mess downstairs. I hum happily and place a plate of steaming toast down in front of Jean. I also put down a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of my mom (as per daily routine), and started to make myself some oatmeal.

          "Feeling better, Jean?" I asked quietly, patting his back as I sat down next to him with my bowl of oatmeal, smiling at the tired and slightly grumpy-looking boy with extreme bedhead, though I was sure my own hair wasn't much better.

          "Yeah..." he sighed. "I'm really sorry, Marco..."

          "No, don't be! You can't control your nightmares!" I comforted, messing up his hair. "Besides, it seemed really scary. I'm just glad you didn't hurt yourself any more than a bruise on the forehead."

          "Mmhmm..." he grumbled, rubbing the slowly bruising spot.

          "Do you want some ice?" I asked.

          "Nah, I can manage." he said, stretching. "I wanna eat all this awesome toast you gave me!" he grinned ravenously, and I laughed, punching his shoulder lightly.

          "Alrighty, then." I smirked. "Let's eat!"

          "Thank you so much!" he told me through bites. "This is awesome!" his eyes glittered with happiness.

          At least he was okay.

          After breakfast, we both took showers and brushed our hair and teeth, getting dressed in more suitable clothing to be wandering around in. We spent the rest of the day wandering around downtown, Jean following me around as I gave him a tour. We stopped for cookies at the bakery and spent a good hour or two in the bookstore before walking back to my house. Walking down the street, Jean noticed the tire marks from his bike the previous night on the muddy area on the side of the road.

          "Hey, can I see what the clearing looks like during the day?" he asked, pointing to the entrance of the trail. I shrugged, and we walked along silently together, appreciating the quietness of our surroundings. We reached the clearing again and Jean sighed contentedly, eyes widening with joy as he took in the beautiful landscape.

          "It looks like something out of an anime!" he laughed, running into the field of wildflowers, arms outstretched as he ran in circular patterns through the field, laughing with glee. I ran after him, initiating a game of tag. We ran around the field together, acting like complete children, laughter ringing through the trees like chimes. When he had at last had enough, Jean collapsed into the side of the cherry tree, sitting on the ground with a happy sigh and a few giggles. I sat down next to him, leaning on his shoulder and staring up at the branches of the tree.

          "This is the best." he breathed. "This is so much better than before."

          "What do you mean, 'before'?" I asked. "Does it have something to do with your nightmare?"

          "Oh, no, no, no, never mind, I didn't mean that, I just... This is wonderful, Marco, thank you." he looked at me with such gratitude that I couldn't help but accept his avoidance of the topic. He would tell me what he meant when he was ready. I just wish that day would come sooner than later. I sighed, rubbing my head into his shoulder further.

          "Yeah..." I mumble, breathing deeply and closing my eyes, leaning into Jean. "But you're the best part of this..."

          "Wha- Marco?! Umm... Marco?" he asks, flusteredly, turning to poke me, only to find me happily asleep, a light smile on my face. He sighed and ruffled my hair softly.

          "No, you're the best part..." he grumbled. However, what he didn't know was that I was able to hear that last part before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

 

          I woke up close to dusk , the sky turning light shades of yellow, pink, and purple, and shook Jean lightly awake.

          "Jeaaaaan..." I whispered, yawning. "Wake uuuuup... We have to go hoooome..." he grumbled in his sleep and blinked a little before opening his eyes.

          "No, Eren, you suicidal blockhead, that's not how you use 3D Maneuver Gear..." he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Oh... I'm here... Okay... No titans... Got it..."

          "Jean, what are you talking about? C'mon, we have to go home..." I said, tugging on his arm. He got up after a particularly strong tug, and followed me back into the forest to go home. Once we arrived back, we smelled something delicious coming from the kitchen.

          "You two are _late_!" mom chirped, giggling. "Dad's home." I perked up.

          "He just got here. I bet he'll want to talk to you and Jean." she smiled with a wink, pointing us into the living room. "He's in there." she turned in the direction she was pointing. " _Honey! They're home!_ " she called.

          "Really?" he answered, turning around in his chair to face us, turning the TV off. "Jean! It's been a while!" he laughed, getting up to ruffle my best friend's hair. "Hey, Marco." he greeted with a loving smile, patting my shoulder and ruffling my hair. "Welcome home, you two."

          "Thanks, dad." Jean and I replied in unison. He laughed and waved at us, walking into the kitchen to talk to mom.

          "Let's go to my room." I took Jean's hand and led him through the house, up the stairs, into the second doorway down the hall. I opened the door to an immaculate room, everything stacked just so and perfectly organized... Except for my art desk. There were papers and pencils, even some ink pots and paint tubes, seemingly randomly strewn about, looking extremely messy. Jean dismissed it, knowing my habits as far as 'inspiration' went, and plopped down on my bed, glancing up at me.

          "Neat freak." he said, sitting up on the edge of the bed.

          "Am not." I replied, dropping down next to him, making the bed bounce a little.

          "Are too." he smirked, bumping his shoulder into mine.

          "Oh, is _that_ how this is going to go?"

          "Maybe."

          "Come at me, bro." I laughed. He bumped my shoulder again, harder this time. I bumped him back. We went back and forth like this until I was knocked over onto the bed, upon which he pounced on me and started tickling my sides. I couldn't stop laughing, and when I was finally able to communicate to him that I couldn't breathe, he let up, moving away and sitting on the edge of the bed again, allowing me to catch my breath.

          "You are totally a neat freak."

          "Don't you dare start." I said, glaring up at him. I couldn't hold a straight face, though, so I laughed a little to release the tension. "Fiiiine, I am what you seem to call a 'neat freak'." I gave in, putting air quotes around the words to protect my dignity.

          "See? You admit it!" he laughed.

          "Whatever..." I grumbled, smiling at him.

          "Hey, you two! Dinner is done!" mom yelled up the stairs.

          "Coming!" I yelled back down. "C'mon, let's go." I said with a smile, taking Jean's arm and jogging out of my room and down the stairs. The twins were at the table when we got there, eating the baby food mom had just given them. Jean's eyes lit up when he saw them.

          "Hey, you two!" he cooed, walking over to them, holding his hand out for them to hold. "You two are so cute! I bet you'll grow up to be big and strong and cool just like big brother Marco!" he giggled and let the babies touch his hand and face. I smiled and laughed, watching him act like a big brother to the two. "What?" he asked, pouting. "I don't have any siblings, so I have to take care of yours." his eyes still shone like little twinkling lights.

          "No, it's just... You're so funny." I grin at him, walking over to the twins and standing behind Jean. "You two are perfect." I said, gently rubbing each of their heads and then allowing them to grasp at my hand as well.

          "You two look like a married couple." mom grinned from the door. "Look at you!"

          "Mo-om!" I complained, glaring at her. "We're best friends."

          "I know, but you two are so cute when you're together. You have no idea how much more energetic you are with Jean around. Really, Jean, you need to come over more often. He acts so sluggish and tired when you're not here." she laughs and goes back into the kitchen. "Come on, I need help carrying all of this back in there." The two of us followed her into the kitchen and helped her bring dinner out.

          The rest of the night passed in a similar fashion, very familial and happy, with the occasional teasing. Jean stayed the rest of the weekend, leaving on Monday at the insistence of my parents that he not worry his. He departed after a firm hug and the promise to skype later that night. We spent the rest of the summer doing pretty much the same thing. He would come over on Friday evenings and stay until Monday morning. The school year passed slowly. It was really difficult to focus without being near Jean. I managed to survive middle school without much trouble, but once the summer before 9th grade rolled around, I knew something had to change.

          It turned out that Jean had exactly the same idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love giving people cliffhangers. =w= Also, I have colorguard camp tomorrow, so I might not post anything. Just be aware of that. (And if I do post something, it'll be past 6pm PST when I post it.)


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